


In which Fraser and Ray ask Callum and Hugh a favor

by china_shop



Series: To Each, His Own [1]
Category: Canadian Actor RPF, Fandom RPF, due South
Genre: Crack, Fic, Llamas, M/M, Mary Sue, Meta
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-11-30
Updated: 2007-12-03
Packaged: 2017-10-13 04:09:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/132677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/china_shop/pseuds/china_shop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"So, ladies," says Hugh, lighting two cigarettes and handing one to Callum, "what can we do you for?"<br/>Fraser sits up slightly straighter. "Actually, we have a favour to ask."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Hugh and Callum are in the cafe drinking coffee and celebrating not being llamas anymore. Hugh's wearing his sunglasses, a Headstones t-shirt and black jeans, and Callum's got on a dorky brown button-down shirt and corduroy pants (but still looks incredibly hot). They're sharing a slice of cheesecake and mocking each other for panicking about the whole turned-into-a-llama thing. Like, you know, it's not cool to freak out, even when freakouts are called for.

You and I are sitting a few tables away, watching them adoringly/indulgently/ogglingly. And also eating cheesecake. The chef here makes the best cheesecake in the history of dairy products, and I'm in danger of turning into a blimp as a result. Luckily, the sea air seems to keep us reasonably fit (or perhaps it's the whole Mary-Sue thing).

"You were bleating," Hugh says, poking Callum in the chest, and making 'panicked' face at him. "I thought you were going to stroke out."

"Yeah, while you were the soul of calm and composure," Callum retorts. "You ran about sixteen laps of the deck, trying to make the potion wear off."

"It was three," says Hugh, mock-sulkily.

Callum shrugs one shoulder. "I was a llama. Not noted for numeracy skills."

"You know," Hugh pulls his sunglasses down his nose and peers at Callum over the top, "you were pretty hot. For a llama, I mean." He gropes Callum's thigh under the table.

Callum bursts out laughing. "Fucking pervert." He flicks a glob of cheesecake off his spoon, but Hugh manages to catch it in his mouth and then grins at him triumphantly.

"Excuse us." Fraser and Ray have appeared by Callum and Hugh's table, and Fraser's breaking into their conversation. Ray's distracted by, um, us, making us flush guiltily and make more of an effort to be discreet in our stalking.

I stare at our plate and eat a mouthful of cheesecake, keeping my ears wide open even while I don't look.

"What is it?" Hugh sounds cheerfully belligerent -- maybe because Fraser's in full uniform. Mostly, Fraser wears casual clothes around the cruiseliner, often worn or patched, but he seems to have made an effort today. His hair is slicked down. Even Ray is uncharacteristically neat, wearing a t-shirt that isn't frayed at the collar, and actual shoes. I suspect this wasn't a deliberate ploy on their part to antagonise Hugh, but it kind of does anyway. Hugh stretches out his neck and raises his eyebrows at them, but doesn't offer them a seat.

But Callum casually kicks a chair out and waves them down. Curiosity apparently trumps any grudge he has against Ray.

"So, ladies," says Hugh, lighting two cigarettes and handing one to Callum, "what can we do you for?"

Callum snickers around a mouthful of smoke.

Fraser sits up slightly straighter. "Actually, we have a favour to ask. You see--"

"Forget it, Frase," Ray interrupts. "I mean, look at them. Do you really want them to-- to even _be_ there? This is supposed to be about us, and they're all--" His gesture encompasses Callum's fugly shirt and the cigarettes, and Hugh's twinkly mockery.

"They're family, Ray," Fraser says. "We've talked about this. They're the closest thing we have to family on board -- your family, anyway, and I'm fairly sure that international law wouldn't recognise the ghost of my father in any kind of official capacity, even if he could hold a pen, which I doubt, and even if he could be persuaded to participate--"

"I know, but--" Ray glances stubbornly at Callum, his jaw jutting out.

Callum winks at him. Even though he has no idea what they're talking about, it's clear he and Hugh have all the cards.

Ray looks from him to Fraser to Hugh and back to Fraser. Then he sighs and slumps back in his chair. "Fine. You can ask."

Hugh blows a lungful of smoke at him, then slides the cig pack across the table. Ray hesitates, torn between accepting the gesture, wanting a cig, and not wanting to piss off Fraser. The latter wins, and he flicks it back across the table, and for a second I think they're about to start playing an impromptu game of table hockey, but Fraser's a Mountie on a mission, and he clears his throat and addresses Callum, and Hugh stops fooling around and listens in.

"Ray and I have been, well, we've decided to--" He clears his throat and tugs at his collar, and Ray waves his hand at the counter and orders a pot of Oolong tea and a cup of coffee.

Fraser tries again. "The cruiseliner on which we're all travelling has recently strayed into New Zealand's coastal waters. Into New Zealand territory, that is. And as you may be aware, civil unions are now legal between couples of the same sex and, well, to be frank, Ray has agreed to undertake such a ceremony with me." Fraser holds up his hands to forestall comment, clearly switching into lecture mode because he finds it more comfortable. "Now, we're fully aware that most countries won't recognise such a union, in particular the United States will, I suspect, turn a blind eye to the whole proceeding, at least as long as the current administration--"

"Frase," Ray interrupts. "Sometime before spiders come and cover us up with cobwebs, maybe?"

Fraser clears his throat again and nods. "And, well, Callum, you're practically a relative to Ray--"

"A relative?" Callum looks taken aback, and also a little amused.

"Distant cousin," says Ray firmly, but there's no heat in it. "Removed lots of times."

"Cut from the same cloth, as my father would say," Fraser says, and then hastily moves on, "and clearly you and Hugh are as good as-- well. Anyway. We'd be grateful if you'd consider witnessing our ceremony."

Hugh puts his cup down very carefully. "You want us to be your best men?"

"Witnesses," says Fraser.

"Bridesmaids," suggests Callum, wickedly.

"Witnesses," says Fraser.

"Forget it," says Ray, and starts to get up.

Callum grabs his t-shirt and tugs him back down. "Sure," he says, and taps his cigarette on the edge of the ashtray. "Why not?"

"Why not?" echoes Hugh, looking mischievous.

Ray narrows his gaze. "You're not gonna be assholes about it. You're not gonna make a scene or spit on anyone or-- or anything."

"Trust us," says Hugh, grinning openly.

"I do," says Fraser, smiling a little, and making them all glance at him and kind of hesitate. "Thank you kindly." He stands up. "We'll see you tomorrow at three. Ray?"

Ray gets up to follow him. "Nothing fancy, nothing stupid. Just a plain, unfussy ceremony, no big deal. Got it?"

"Uh, sure. No problem." Callum's still blinking at Fraser's sincerity and apparent obliviousness to the tooth-baring and posturing that's going around.

Ray and Fraser leave, shoulder to shoulder, Fraser with a broad smile on his face and Ray with a suspicious scowl that goes away when he catches Fraser's eye.

You and I exchange glances. Civil union! Fraser and Ray! Eeeeeeeee! And also, omg, the possibilities for disaster with Callum and Hugh in the ~~wedding~~ union party, and all the tensions that're going on there.

"We have to get ourselves invited to the union!" you hiss. "I _have_ to see this!"

I glance back at Callum and Hugh. Callum's eyebrows are still raised, and he's stirring sugar into another cup of coffee. Hugh's clearly thinking up a dozen demonic plans to wreak havock on the whole thing.

I glance at you. "We have to be there, if only to make sure it all runs smoothly." I lean back in my chair. "But still! Fraser and Ray! Civil union! EEEEEEEEEE!"

I go up to the counter and order a piece of celebratory cheesecake (which, omg, I'm already so full, but we have to celebrate, right?) and two soy hot chocolates. Before I've even sat back down, you're frowning. "Um, how're we going to get ourselves invited?"

 

 **mergatrude:** After everything we've been through together, they bloody well better invite us! Or I'll let Joe and Billy out of the vehicle deck!

 **china:** Hee! But they want a tiny ceremony! No fuss!

I wouldn't invite us, if I were them. *g*

 **mergatrude:** But that's mean. We helped get Ray back. We saved Ray from having to have pretend sex with us.

 **china:** Except for you! *g*

 **mergatrude:** We got them here together in the first place!!

 **china:** Did we? I don't remember that.

 **mergatrude:** It's our cruiseliner. They wouldn't be there at all if it weren't for us.

 **china:** Well, true, but for that matter, we nearly got Fraser and Callum together. *g*

 **mergatrude:** Because we didn't have Ray. But then we got Ray, because he's the only one for Fraser. Alburquerque knew that.

 **china:** I don't know how much of the goings on we can take credit for, without taking the blame for all the others. *g*

 **mergatrude:** *pouts unattractively*

 **china:** Awww! But if we go, Albuquerque will go too, and god only knows what will happen then! I suspect Fraser's had enough of her for one lifetime. (But we do have to go, to keep an eye on Hugh.)

 **mergatrude:** We do! I was just grumpy about not getting invited.

 **china:** Hee! I could tell.

 **mergatrude:** Are they inviting Mark?

 **china:** I don't think they're inviting anyone. They just need witnesses.

 **mergatrude:** Who is going to be the celebrant? Did we decide who the captain was?

 **china:** I think he's just a captain. I don't know that he's anyone in particular (unless we want him to be Welsh).

 **mergatrude:** Not Welsh. ~~Captain Stubing~~

 **china:** Hee! That's what I was thinking, too. *g*


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "If you're going to start making us all archetypes, I want to be Minerva," you tell me.

No opportunity arises for us to get ourselves invited to Fraser and Ray's civil union, so after much discussion we decide to hide in the vicinity to keep an eye on things. After all, we're legitimate passengers on the cruiseliner -- we can go where we want. We find out easily enough (by coercing Turnbull into telling us) that the ceremony's planned for 3pm on the bridge.

We leave Albuquerque in Turnbull's care, with plenty of cheesecake and straw hats to chew on.

Neither of us have been to the bridge before, but we sneak up the metal stairs past the Personnel Only sign, and hide in a convenient cupboard with some life jackets and a dozen shiny silver whistles on lanyards. There's a small window with safety glass so we can see what's going on.

You pick up one of the whistles.

"You'll get us kicked out," I whisper.

"If we wait till after the ceremony, it won't matter." You twirl the lanyard around your finger nervously. "You don't think Hugh's really going to mess it up, do you?"

"I don't know." I chew my lip. "I mean, I think he's a good guy, but he likes causing mischief. You know, I wouldn't be that surprised if he turned out to be related to Loki or Coyote or someone."

"If you're going to start making us all archetypes, I want to be Minerva," you tell me.

"Noted." I get distracted trying to figure out who I am in the Roman pantheon, so I don't see Hugh turn up until you nudge me. "What? Oh."

Hugh's dressed in a suit (I have to remind myself this isn't out of character), and grinning broadly. He goes over to where the Captain is consulting a book of regulations, says something we can't hear, and slips him fifty bucks.

"Uh-oh," you say.

"Yuh-huh," I agree. I have a sinking feeling. But before we can do anything, Fraser and Ray and Callum turn up, and if we want to stay to see how things turn out, we have to keep quiet.

I fidget. You turn the silver whistle over and over in your hands, smearing it with fingerprints.

"It can't be that bad," I point out, "or the Captain would've refused."

You shake your head. "You don't know that! We didn't decide who the Captain _is_ \-- maybe he's evil!"

"But Hugh isn't evil." I peer through the window and catch Hugh winking surreptitiously at Callum. I tell myself to stop using "surreptitiously" in every single story. (And also "abruptly".) "I'm sure everything will be okay. It's probably just a minor prank. Maybe he's getting the Captain to play Headstones music for the wedding march."

"I don't think they're having a wedding march," you say, pointing. "Everyone's already here."

"At the end, maybe?" I don't know much about weddings.

"Maybe." You glance at your watch. It's two minutes past three. "I guess we'll see, anyway."

I feel like a wildlife photographer getting footage of a lion hunting a baby orphaned gazelle: part of me wants to get the footage, but I have a strong urge to rescue the gazelle. Of course, if this was wildlife, I'd know that the lion has to eat. I'm not completely convinced that it would hurt Hugh if his meddling got meddled with. But while I'm still sorting this out in my head, the Captain arranges Fraser and Ray facing each other -- each looking serious and excited, happy and full of a sense of occasion -- and Callum and Hugh off to one side.

Everyone's dressed up -- no frills and furbelows or anything, but tidy and clean-shaven -- and Ray and Callum's hair are both carefully spiked. Callum and Hugh have their matching bracelets and Headstones rings on for the occasion.

I take a deep breath and hold it, and try not to jiggle impatiently. The Captain starts speaking, and you grab my arm really hard and I completely understand. Historic occasion! EEEEEEEEE!

If I stand on tiptoe, I can see Ray reaching out and taking Fraser's hand, holding it tight. It's all gooshy and romantic, and I'm usually allergic to that stuff, but it's also Ray and Fraser, and--

You inhale sharply.

"What?" I whisper.

"Shh!" You jerk your head towards the Captain, and I frown and concentrate. The words are muffled by the closet door.

"If anyone here knows any just cause why these two should not be joined in civil union," says the Captain, "let him speak now or forever hold his peace."

Hugh grins, and then coughs to disguise it.

You and I exchange glances. "I'm pretty sure that's not part of the civil union ceremony," I say. "In fact, I don't think they even say that at weddings anymore."

"Oh god," you say.

I follow your gaze, and Callum's opening his mouth and I can see these words forming on his lips: _Ray's a fictional character._

I don't think he means it maliciously -- he's just goofing around -- but he's going to say it. He is.

There's a thudding pause of stillness, tension thick in the air, and I know exactly what you'll say when he says it. You'll retort: _This is the cruiseliner! We're_ all _fictional here! Leave! Them! Alone!_

Trouble is, I really don't think this is the time for another meta debate. This is the time for Ray and Fraser to get hitched! I snatch the whistle from your hand and blow it once, sharply.

Fraser whips his head around and sees us through the small window. His eyebrows flick up, then he glances at Callum and Hugh, who both look a little shamefaced.

"Sorry," murmurs Callum.

Fraser gives him a disappointed look -- not the full Mountie, but a reproach that seems to promise a lecture later on -- and turns back to the Captain. "Please, continue."

The Captain clears his throat and nods, and looks down at his service book. "Well, then--"

He's interrupted by hurried footsteps outside, running up the stairs, coming closer. "Wait!" says a familiar voice.

You jump. I look around wildly, trying to see the entranceway.

"I've got a reason," says the voice. "You want to tell me what this is all about, Benny?"


End file.
